Where Eagles Have Been
by The Never End
Summary: Another Contractor is recruited to Hei's burgeoning team. While her skills are seconded only to the Black Reaper himself, her undying will to escape a life only the syndicate can offer may prove fatal. Follows 1st Season from Episode 17. OC Insertion.
1. Prologue

_**Where Eagles Have Been**_

_**Prologue**_

* * *

The sound of sirens was grew louder and louder. A girl, who couldn't have been any older than twenty, held a pistol against her chest. She took a deep breath, counting down the seconds.

"I'll never understand it."

"Understand what?" One of the young men asked.

"Why. Why we were made. Why we were made the way we were."

"It's not worth it. Worrying about it all." Another voice called from the narrow window. A spider was hanging in its corner unaware of the four visiting souls.

"I don't worry."

Silence seeped into the room. Her words were meant to silence anyone who would dare speak. After a long while the silence fled.

"Sometimes..." The girl began, unlocking the safety of the pistol.

Flashes of red and blue intruded into the dark room. But the faces inside were still protected by shadow.

"Sometimes...I wish I could."

* * *

"There's no smoking in here." The man said grumpily.

The girl lit the stick anyway, tucking it under her thin upper lip. With her hand free, she lowered her dark glasses ever so slightly so that they rested just above the tip of her nose.

"No please, or excuse me?" She replied in a smooth whisper, gazing at the man with sullen eyes. "Not very polite you know."

The man was much shorter than her; his pudgy face turned shades redder at her curt words. She cocked her head to one side, observing him. He reminded her greatly of a rotting tomato.

He began to blubber about the recently updated health acts or maybe it was something about common decency. Whatever his tomato mouth was spewing, the girl wasn't about to take it.

She pulled the cigarette out from her lips and dashed the ashes atop his balding head. That shut him up. He seemed to be speechless with rage and disbelief. The woman turned away from him, her eyes focusing on the blue sky outside. It was the sort of sky that only appeared after a long rain.

Luckily her stop was next. Hardly anyone occupied this train. After walking through the various cars she had specifically chosen this car because of its lack of people. There were four in total. A woman with far too many shopping bags and a glum smile plastered on her face. Two high-school students in matching busily texting on their phones while snacking on a shared pack of sugary candy. And the tomato-faced man who clearly wanted to stir trouble.

So she smoked on the subway. Who _really_ gave a flying damn? She certainly wasn't annoying the other occupants of the car.

When the train slowed to a screechy stop, she shifted the weight of her messenger bag on her shoulder and exited the train. Dodging her way through throngs of lunch-time commuters, she puffed on her cigarette as she went.

Her apartment was only two blocks from the station. The complex was centered above a well-known gym. As she past the dozens of people who were sweating on treadmills and silently cursing their personal trainers, she dropped the cigarette carelessly onto the ground.

She pulled out her key which was attached to a small iron bird, a trinket key-chain that she had picked up at an aging tourist stand. It was the only key she owned. She had never owned a car or needed a key for her job.

However, when she reached the main door she found it already opened. Shrugging she stepped inside climbing the stairs with ease.

She had purposely picked an apartment on the topmost floor. She never liked the sound of people clompning up and down stairs. If she occupied the top floor, foot traffic would be exclusive to the three other people who occupied the three other studio apartments on the fifth floor.

"Hello ma'am,"

She had reached the top of the stairs. Her eyes swerved to the left. A man stood in the doorway of number 3 the apartment that stood across from her own. However, it wasn't the idiot who took residence in the number 3 apartment. This man was much stouter and wore a worn-in suit. Another man stood just outside the door, but he had his back to her.

She removed her glasses, black brown eyes. They reflected dark wood that had been recently soaked through by an angering storm.

"Yes?" Her voice was pleasant enough. She sounded truthfully interested in the man that stood in the doorway. Her eyes met his evenly, but the lack of light in them put him on edge.

"You are Rosa Valdez are you not? You live here in apartment number 24?" He asked, trying to sound casual.

The young woman smiled kindly and nodded. "I am."

She stuck out her hand and waited for the man to shake it. He did so, rather hesitantly. The other man, who seemed a bit more personable, shook her hand with more force.

She then turned towards her own door, as if the questioning had ended. She flipped open her bag and began digging through its contents.

"Excuse me miss?"

"Call me Rosa." She said airily, still rummaging through the bag.

"Ms. Valdez," the man said stonily. "Did you know your neighbor, a Mr.-"

"Shinichiro." She said, turning towards the man once more. "Shinichiro Izumi?"

"Yes." He affirmed, stepping out of the doorway. A string of policemen were now visible inside the cramped apartment.

Rosa could not help but to look around. "Has...something happened?"

"No need to worry yourself, Rosa. Mr. Izumi has been charged with three counts of embezzlement. He wasn't a violent psychopath or anything like that" The other man said, grinning. His scrappy orange hair bounced as he talked.

The young woman blinked, the crease of anxiety in her brow disappearing. "Oh, I see."

"Did you have any sort of interaction with Mr. Izumi?"

Rosa nodded, her search for her key momentarily abandoned. "I only saw Shinichiro in the mornings. We left for work at the same hour. My job keeps me late, so the morning was really the only time I saw him."

Both men looked rather disappointed, but gave the Rosa polite grins.

The larger one nodded. "Thank you for your time. If you think of anything else, any suspicious activity, do not hesitate to give me a call."

He handed her a common business card and re-entered the apartment shutting the door behind him.

Rosa glanced at the paper. _Saito 62-555-4374_

She spun around once more and reached into her bag. She slipped the key out and pressed them into the lock. Turning them once, the door opened with a small click. She entered the apartment letting the card slide from her hand and hit the ground without so much as a sound.

The studio was small and had little natural light. In the shadowy apartment, a red light was flashing: her answering machine. Without bothering to turn on any lights, she pulled her lighter out of her pocket and hit the button. As a mechanical voice relayed the date and time the message was left, Rosa sank onto her couch lighting a new cigarette and leaning her head back against the cool leather.

"It's Shinichiro. Look Rosa, I know what you're thinking. But this wasn't about Midori. I-I have to leave now. With any luck I'll be out of the country by five. So don't miss me." There was a click and a beep and the voice cut out.

"Unlikely." She mused to herself, fingers searching lazily for the remote control.

She flipped on the television and flashing lights swirled inside the apartment. She clicked through each major station and listened to the five o' clock news. Not one of the prettily dressed anchor women mentioned anything about any embezzlers being arrested that day.

She had always harbored dislike for Shinichiro Izumi. He was a fool who relied on his so-called emotions to direct all of his decisions.

Every morning he would insist on starting inane conversations about the weather or the young woman he was infatuated with: A waitress named Midori.

It seemed as though he was under the impression that they were 'friends.'

Above all, he was a lousy excuse for a contractor. She had lived next to him for over a year and he was always trying to speak to her about their contracts. He only knew she was a contractor because of his power. Shinichiro could read minds.

It was a handy contract with a fairly easy price to pay, but he still managed to get caught by the Tokyo Police Force.

Smoke filled the room as she fingered the stick, rolling it slowly between her index finger and her thumb. She could no more feel it than she felt loss for the neighbor across the street. She felt nothing.

"I'm like a doll..."

But the darkness did not perk his ears to hear.

* * *

AN: I am a total, drop-dead sucker for reviews. I would love to hear from you! In the mean time, thank you for taking the time to read! I promise the characters you know and love will be in the next chapter!


	2. Blend In

_**Chapter 2**_

_**Blend In**_

* * *

"One soy latte, one dirty Chai!"

Rosa wanted to cringe, but her hands were stocked with two cupfuls of freshly steamed milk. Every Monday and every Friday, the very same man, the very same order, the very same greeting...

"There's my girl."

"Mr. Watanabe, Good Morning." Rosa said, offering a small grin and she expertly dumping the milk into their respective cups.

"Haven't I told you, dear? I take no offense in you calling me Isaac." The man said, winking.

"You tell Miu and Sumire to call you Mr. Watanabe." Rosa answered, slipping two lids onto the paper cups. "I have two Lattes' with an extra shot for Kim! One americano for Huang!"

Isaac frowned, leaning his arm against the bar. He didn't bother to move when a slight girl tried to force her way in between him and another man to reach her drinks.

"And I wish _you_ would call me Isaac." He said, his voice getting lower. Rosa glanced at him. He wore dark glasses. She was thankful she couldn't see his eyes.

"Mr. Watanabe." Rosa said cheerily, shaking her head. "I would call that favoritism, wouldn't you. Here you are!"

She placed a caddy filled with the four drinks into his hands and refusing to meet his gaze.

"I put some extra cinnamon in your Chai, sir."

Isaac grinned, he balanced the drink caddy on his forearm and leaned down to grab his briefcase. "Isn't that favoritism?"

Rosa didn't return the smile. "No, Mr. Watanabe. That is just great service."

* * *

Noon came quickly that day and Rosa left the coffee shop. It was time she was heading to her second job. Her apartment was her comfort and she had to take on another job if she were to survive paying the monthly lease. Her landlord was a stingy, middle-aged man who seemed to take joy in doling out evictions.

She boarded another subway train that would take her across town. There were very few people in her car: a woman and her two children, an elderly man clinging to the railing for dear life, and a young man in the corner. Rosa assessed them all one by one. All of the subway patrons seemed to be minding their own business.

She leaned against the door and slipped her spectators off of her feet. The young man looked up at her for a second, but her steely glare sent his eyes back down. She watched him for a moment to make sure he wouldn't try peeping again. He kept his eyes hidden under shaggy black hair, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his olive green jacket.

Stepping onto her shoes so as not to come into contact with the germ-infested car floor, she pulled a pair of black heels from her bag and slid them onto her feet.

She had found her second job with a law firm downtown. She took a late shift as the firm's only filing clerk and spent seven hours every day indexing cases and organizing papers. It was boring, tedious work, but it brought in a fair amount of money. Plus, most of the office staff left the office halfway through her shift. She usually had a good three hours alone in the two story office space.

Because she was a part-time worker, the dress-code didn't apply to her. She normally wore a clean pair of high waist-ed blue jeans and a black button up blouse. She only wore the heels to seem more professional.

After work she passed by a small tobacco shop to pick up her favorite clove cigarettes. She was there every Wednesday to stock up. Often times, she wondered if she was the only patron of the small decrepit store. She never saw anyone else buying.

"Three packs of Diarum Blacks." She requested, dropping the exact amount of yen onto the wood board counter. One coin hit the counter spinning. Rosa watched as it slowed and finally fell.

The woman behind the counter shoved the cartons forward.

"Thanks."

She didn't say a word, she never did. Rosa guessed that she was still in her teens. Her hair was dyed bright lavender. An odd duck.

After that she had nothing else to do. So she headed home.

_Another day, _She thought to herself. After two years of living this way she had come to accept it.

A life of mediocrity was much more agreeable than the life she had left behind.

* * *

The letter.

It sat on her broken down coffee table: an innocent slip of paper that had been fashioned into a post card.

On the front was a picture of the Greek Island Angistri. Small white houses, topped by orange stone roofs, lay along a blue green ocean. One ancient ship drifted in the small port. A typical picturesque postcard. So seemingly harmless.

On the back, immaculate handwriting read:

_Darling Rosa, _

_When you come around...We'll come here._

_Isaac._

She was more than aware of the casual flirting. She endured it with a smile and polite refusal. But for it to come to this...

How in five hells the man had come across her address baffled her. She bit on her thumbnail another habit she was too apathetic to fix. She studied the postcard for what seemed like hours.

She knew that Isaac Watanabe was a business man. He always wore an expensive looking suit and carried that sleek briefcase around as if it were a weapon of great power. Where he worked, however, was a mystery to her.

"Damn."

_I'm going to have to move again. _She thought, thoroughly dejected.

Immediately, she started gather items from her kitchen drawer.

Every week she took the Sunday paper and searched for available apartments. They had to be studios because she couldn't afford otherwise and would never consider a roommate. Contractor or no Contractor.

This week she had found four possible options. The first, however, was miles out of her way. The second had been circling around for the past month, so it was probably in bad shape. The third was new and was actually closer to the firm. While the fourth wasn't available until December.

In the first drawer of her ebony nightstand she kept all of her important documents. For an entire year she kept the drawer locked tight. It had come time to open it once more.

She took a small key out from under a vase filled with plastic hydrangeas. After opening the drawer she stared at its contents. Memories began to flood her mind. But she had to push them out. All memories were weaknesses. A Contractor couldn't afford for weaknesses.

She pulled out a cell phone, an extra she kept around in case someone ever reached the one she currently used. Next came a stack of papers, then a manila folder that was sealed shut.

Carrying all the items into the kitchen, she spread them out on the bar and grabbed a beer from her refrigerator. She never usually drank, but she had discovered that she was a rather sluggish drunk. Anytime she felt stressed she would down a beer to steady her nerves.

First she reviewed her passports.

Four years prior, she had three different passports made in three different names:

Rosa Valdez: twenty-three years of age, born on the tenth of April in Brazil.

Christina Frank: twenty-four years of age, born on the thirtieth of October in America.

Isabel Nova: twenty-three years of age, born on the fifteenth of March in Portugal.

Along with the Passports, she gathered a U.S. Social Security Card, four different birth certificates, a donor card, and five different driver's licenses.

In her hurry to gather her most important possessions she had not heard the window in above her bed slide open. What she did hear was the faint jingling of a bell.

Quick as a fox, she gripped a knife that lay soaking in the sink. She could feel Luke-warm suds dripping down the back of her hand. She was no expert with the weapon, but she had been trained well enough to put up a fight.

In the shadowy center of her room, a pair of large lavender eyes was fixated on her form.

Her heart leapt a bit in her chest. _Could it be...?_

"Maris, it's been a long time."

* * *

"You still scare as easily as you used to, Maris. Or should I be calling you Rosa now?"

"Mao." Maris breathed her voice thick. "How did you find me?"

The cat jumped down from the table and stalked over to the kitchen. The last time Maris had seen him, Mao had inhabited the body of a dog, a Doberman if she was remembering correctly.

"That doesn't matter," Mao said, hopping up onto her counter. His eyes bore into her and she felt as if he was reading into her soul. She turned away from him, loosening her grip on the knife and letting it fall back into the sink with a 'plunk.'

"Why are you here?" she asked, venomously. She busied herself with unclogging the sink, refusing to look at him.

"You're being called back into duty." He said it as cordially as if her were inviting her to tea.

"Back into duty?" Maris said, snorting. "Don't pretend this is some noble service."

She downed another swallow of beer. Forget Isaac Watanabe, now the syndicate had caught up to her. Apparently, May 29th, was not her day.

"Cut it out." Mao snapped. "...TC113."

"Don't you dare." Maris snapped right back. "Mao, I've given up that life. As far as Pandora and the police are concerned TC113 disappeared in Bolivia four years ago. She's been inactive ever since."

Maris left the kitchen and entered her bedroom. Falling onto the bed, she searched inside her pocket for her lighter. Maybe she was dreaming. She hoped beyond hope she was dreaming.

Mao followed hopping up onto the bed. He stalked over to her side, his furry face bearing down on her own.

"Leave. Now." Maris demanded.

"Given up, huh?" Mao asked, ignoring her and plopping his bum down. "This isn't a bad habit Marin. You're a contractor. Did you really think you could outrun the syndicate for much longer?"

Maris seethed. A number of childish retorts were itching to burst from her lips, but she swallowed them. It was pointless arguing with Mao.

Mao hopped off of the bed and onto the window just above her. "Meet me tomorrow at Matsumoto Park, Noon."

She lifted a cigarette to her lips and lit it, snapping the lighter shut with unnecessary fervor. "And what if I don't come?"

"I won't be the one to chase you down." He left her with those words of warning. He jumped out the window, into the night.

Maris closed her eyes and blew smoke from her lips. She reached a hand up to her shoulder and pinched her skin.

_No, not a dream._

"Damn."

* * *

A/N: Chapter two! Yay! Thanks again fro reading, I appreciate it! This is one of my favorite anime (and not just because Hei's as hot as the summer sun ;)). I only started watching because of the Yoko Kanno music.


	3. Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

_**Chapter 3**_

_**Ain't No Rest For The Wicked**_

* * *

Hours before sunrise, Maris' alarm clock was shrilling. She slammed her hand onto the button and sat up. Her mind was hazy and it took her a moment to remember why she was awake at such an ungodly hour. But it all came swirling back to her.

The Postcard. Shinichiro's arrest. Isaac Watanabe. And Mao.

Maris slipped the passport labeled _Spain _into her pocket and tossed the other two into a black trash bag.

Everything in the apartment would have to stay. Maris figured that the landlord wouldn't even notice she was gone until the month's rent would be due, which wasn't for two more weeks. By then Rosa Valdez will be nothing but a ghost.

She pocketed a roll of cash that totaled $2,585 dollars. It was a meager pile, but she had little time.

She closed the door to her apartment and tossed the key off of the balcony by the stairwell. She watched it fly through the air and land on the cold concrete ground below.

It was time to disappear again.

Maris was no stranger to the world. For various lengths of time, she had lived in Paris, Seville, New York, San Francisco, Barcelona, London, Hong Kong, Bangkok, even Cuba.

But now that she had come here, so close to Hell's Gate, she couldn't bear to leave. She had to know. Being close to the gate was electrifying. It seemed to confirm her existence. As long as there was the gate, she had a reason to live. She had answers to search for.

What specifically she was searching for was a mystery, even to her. She couldn't leave Tokyo. Not now.

Maris had found another apartment just beyond the outskirts of Downtown and the Financial District. It meant that she would have a much longer commute to and from the coffee house, but it was a disadvantage she would have to live with. At the coffee shop and the firm she would continue to be Rosa Valdez. She would search for new jobs once she was settled. But now she had taken on the guise of Isabel Nova.

She glanced at her watch. It was 12:32.

"Sorry Mao." She muttered under her breath. "I just can't."

**

* * *

**

Her new apartment was empty, devoid of any past owner. She would find new furniture at a later time. Right now, her stomach was yearning for food.

She spent a good amount of time inside the market, walking around the aisles listlessly. So it had come to this: settling in dusty old buildings until she was found again. She felt like a mouse. It was irking.

After buying an assortment of fruit and some more frozen dinners she exited the store and was greeting by pouring rain.

"What a day," she said. She had no umbrella and her apartment was five blocks away.

She tied the plastic handles of each bag together and tucked them under her coat. She then wrapped her arms under the bags, making sure they would stay somewhat dry.

She stepped out from under the striped awning and hastily made her way down the street.

She was completely soaked through when she came to the entrance of a high school that was just behind her apartment complex. She decided that she could find more cover if she cut through the campus.

She was met with a looming iron fence at the other end of the school. The gate was locked and wrapped in a thick chain. She groaned and tossed her bags over the fence. But just as she was ready to start her climb, the noise of disturbed water hit her ears.

Immediately she pushed away from the fence and she felt something speed past her face. She began to fall backwards but managed to land on her hands and flip over landed neatly on her feet.

She looked around for her attacker, pivoting in one complete circle. Finally she spotted him standing on the roof of her building. He expertly jumped off of the roof and came careening down practically on top of her.

She knew she was at an advantage on the ground. If possible, she was going to avoid calling on her Contract.

She tried to correct her footing and readied for a defensive maneuver when she felt something wrap itself tightly around her ankle. The cord, or whatever it was, tightened

And she felt the familiar sensation of being swept off of ones feet.

She cursed under her breath. Years had passed without the need for her to fight. She was rusty, and it was showing.

The masked man landed easily on his feet about ten feet away from her and tightened his grip on the cords. One was attached to the weapon that had just narrowly missed impaling her. It was a modified version of a scythe, something only the syndicate could have manufactured.

Her leg was being dragged towards him, but she knew that, if he were an intelligent fighter, he would keep a safe distance.

She struggled to stand but he held her leg to the ground. After propping herself up on one knew she stared him down.

"Who are you?" She barked. "How did you find me?"

He didn't answer. Instead he pulled his scythe to him and pointed it at her. With skilled swiftness, he tossed it at her. It flew through the rain and wind, on a one way course straight to her.

Maris was ready. She somersaulted backwards pulling the man's grip with her. Cocking her head to the right, she lifted her hands just above her right shoulder and caught the blade between her palms. Knowing she couldn't waste a moment, she gripped the handle and ran at the masked stranger.

She was always confidant in her hand-to-hand skills and she probably faired better.

She threw the blade slightly to the left, hoping he would try to catch it. He did.

Using the slippery ground she slid to the right, pivoting again and aiming a kick to the strangers stomach. He blocked by shoving his knee upwards and then tried to bring the blade down on her head. No more doubt, he was aiming to kill.

She dodged him, grabbing his arm and pulling it roughly behind his back. He stumbled forward a bit and Maris tried to guide him forward to the ground.

He used the force she was applying to flip her over his back. She landed on the ground with a grunt. She wasn't about to let him go. But the blunt edge of the blade rammed into her shoulder. She heard a sickening crack before she felt a wave of pain.

"Ah!" The man backed off again and Maris instinctively grabbed her shoulder. The bone had been dislocated. She pulled herself off the ground and spun around facing him.

Her breath was coming in short gasps and her chest heaved. This wasn't good.

_If I just had a-_

She didn't want to use her contract. She couldn't. She had promised herself. It would be so easy though...but she couldn't die like this. It went against every aching bone in her body.

_I guess I have no choice..._she would have to kill him. Her pupils flashed a dangerous red and the wind around her began to circle her.

Distracted by her thoughts she stayed still a second too late. She felt the cord wrap itself around her neck and tighten. Her good arm and hand extended and she tried in vain to loosen his hold. A blue shine began to envelope the stranger.

_Shit!_

"No! Hei!" A shadow flew past Maris and right at the masked man. With a grunt and a splash the man stumbled backwards. He dropped the blade and Maris was able to pull herself free.

"Damn it Maris! What were you thinking?" It was Mao.

Maris backed up. Why was he here?

"Mao!" the stranger growled. "Get out of the way."

"No!" Mao said. "Let her decide first."

"There's nothing to decide, Mao." A throaty voice called from behind her. Maris heard the distinctive sound of metal grinding against metal. She craned her head backwards and saw a small man holding a large machine gun. The barrel was aiming directly at her skull.

"She missed her chance when she skipped on our little meeting. She's toast."

"Stop Huang." Mao cried out. "Maris. Reconsider, Now!"

Maris looked between Mao, the masked man, and the man with the gun. She could still run, she could spend her life running. But it wasn't worth it. She would be safer with the syndicate. She knew it to be true. And she hated knowing.

She moaned, holding her good arm in the air. "Alright! Alright! I'm done running."

Mao's stiff stance relaxed. "Did you hear her Huang?"

The man hadn't moved. "Huang! Put the gun down!"

Huang looked hesitant. The last thing he wanted to do was put the gun down. Slowly he lowered the weapon, but refused to lock the safety. Even in the darkened sky he could see her eyes. They were blazing with hatred.

"Maris." Mao called out. "Maris relax. It's over."

She looked at the cat over her shoulder. "You bet your ass it's over, Mao. It's all over."

**

* * *

**

A/N: Writing an action scene is challenging. I can picture it in my head...but I just can't get the words right. I hope it wasn't too confusing!


	4. Come Together

_**Chapter 4**_

_**Come Together**_

* * *

"Messier Code: TC113."

"Yes."

"Code Name: Maris"

"Yes."

"Alias: Diana Ray"

"One of many."

"The others?"

"Rosa Valdez, Natasha Alvarez, Isabel Nova, Christina Frank, Maria Winston, Minnie Kelly, Louisa Greg..."

"Uh-huh. Contractor Ability?"

"Oxygen Manipulation."

Huang nodded, jotting down a quick note onto a small note pad. "Elaborate."

"Sorry?"

"What can I be expecting you to do?" He said. Maris was accustomed to the thinly veiled hate that was thrust upon her by those who knew of Contractors. Huang was a textbook case; at least he seemed to be. Not once had the man made eye contact with her.

_I guess I'm going to have to spell it out for him._

"I can manipulate air." She said, her tone relaying her impatience. "You know..."

"Show me."

Huang was stubborn. The poor bastard got himself mixed up in this mess and somehow was handed the of 'babysitting' contractors. If he had a way out, Maris was sure he would take it. At the drop of his own dirty hat.

Maris glanced at Mao. He was resting comfortably in a the young girls lap. Yin was her name. A doll. Maris could barely remember the last time she had been in the presence of a doll. She was staring off into the distance.

"Just do it, Maris" Mao demanded, his eyes shut tight. Huang was eying her expectantly. When she turned back to him he dodged her eyes.

_Coward..._

She held her hand out palm face up. Huang stared at it, his eyes wary. Her body began to glow as brightly as a distant star, her eyes shone as red as new blood. With calculated swiftness her fingers twitched upwards, as if she were calling Huang to her.

A small gust of wind flew out from her direction and hit Huang straight in the face. His hat was blown clear off his head and onto the ground behind him.

He grumbled and reached backwards to grab his hat off of the ground. Huang must have been in his early forties. He was balding and pudgy, a permanent scowl etched onto his face.

"Cute." He spat, stuffing the hat back on his head. Considering his tone he might as well have flipped her off. Either way, the sentiment was the same.

"You asked." She said, her voice dripping with an equal amount of detest. She crossed her legs already bored with the questioning. "I'm sure your boss already has this information."

"Things have changed." Mao noted, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

Had thing really changed? Five years and the syndicate still relied on contractors do to all the dirty work. Maris thought she had made it out. True, without the syndicate, her life bore little purpose.

It was pure luck that she was able to live under the radar. Now that Mao had found her, it seemed she would be tied to the syndicate for the rest of her miserable existence.

"What is your price?" Huang asked.

Maris pursed her lips. "You don't need to know that."

"I sure as hell do." Huang barked. It was painfully obvious that the man was trying to assert dominance over her. He was well aware that he was the weak one in the bunch. He had about as much authority as English royalty. He was past his prime, tumbleweed, an expendable. It was laughable that he was even attempting to bestow fear upon her. Laughable and a bit insulting...

Maris looked at Mao who was staring back at her this time. She glanced at Huang and at the man with the mask. It was him: The Reaper. She had heard the rumors, the hushed whisperings. And now she was meeting the heralded killer face to face.

He had removed his mask, but hid behind Huang. He couldn't be any older than twenty-three. He was tall. The material of his outfit clung to his skin revealing finely toned muscle. His eyes were as blank as the dolls. Maris had known most Contractors to be apathetic, but this man seemed dead.

"Fine." Maris relented. She pulled her lighter out of her pocket.

She reached into her pockets for a cigarette and pulled out her last carton. It was completely soaked through.

_What a waste..._She thought, sighing loudly.

She eyed Huang. "You got a spare fag?"

Huang paused, and then reached into his pocket. "That's your payment? You have to smoke?"

She grabbed the cigarette from him and stuck it between her lips.

"No," she answered, taking a long drag. It was a cheap one, she noted. The stinging taste of tobacco wasn't one she was used to. _Nothing smooth about that..._ After a moment she removed the cigarette from her lips and held it between her index finger and thumb.

Flipping it around, she held out her wrist and ran the cigarette into the skin just below her palm. When the sparks met her skin they sizzled and hissed angrily. Her eyes snapped shut as she tried to suppress a groan. Five years had passed since she had had to do that. The pain was new again. She pulled the butt away and tossed it to the ground. She blew a thin line of cool air onto her afflicted wrist.

When she opened her eyes Huang was staring at her, his heavy lidded eyes stretched.

"I have to burn a part of my body. Obviously my price limits my use of my Contract. If can avoid using it altogether I will."

Huang shook his head back and forth. "I see. S'that why you need these?"

He tossed a small bottle towards her which she caught with one hand. She looked at the bottle.

It looked just like any ordinary prescription drug bottle. A label covered up most of the transparent orange plastic.

_Diana Ray_

_TriUsec for Allergies_

_Take one every day at a time of your choosing. _

"From the syndicate." Huang added. He glanced at the smoking cigarette on the ground.

"Yeah." Maris nodded, gazing closely at the small blue capsules inside. "A way to speed the healing process..."

"Uh-Huh."

"Can I ask a question?" she ventured. She was met with silence which she took to mean 'yes'. "What exactly does the syndicate want from me?"

"Your unique services." Huang said. His voice was laced with cynicism. If she wasn't a Contractor his words and their poisonous delivery might have stung her. But Maris just narrowed her eyes.

"That's a little vague, wouldn't you say?"

"You're on a need to know basis." Huang said, as if that settled the matter.

"So take it day by day, then." Maris said aloud to no one in particular.

"We have a place for you to 'live.' After that you can do whatever the hell you like, but you will be hearing from us."

Maris frowned, rising from her seat and bearing down on the man. "Don't bullshit me. 'Do whatever I like,' you think I haven't been through this before? I was caught up in this syndicate shit long before you were, pal."

"Maris..." Mao warned.

Huang gulped, a small drop of sweat traveled down his temple. This kitten had some fierce claws.

She lowered herself back into her seat, her fists unclenching. "Where exactly will I be staying?"

**

* * *

**

"That will be 7.58, ma'am."

"Sure," Maris said, pulling some dollar bills and change out of the pocket of her jeans. "Thanks."

The taxi driver just nodded and pulled away. Maris turned to face her new abode, one she had no say in choosing.

It was rather dumpy. The small, two story building was made of aging gray stone and was covered in sad strings of greenery. At the very back of the lot stood a small cottage. The door was wide open and she could here various conversations coming from inside.

Grabbing a hold of a large suitcase she started dragging it along behind her. In reality the baggage was easy to carry, but to keep up appearances she feigned a struggle. The wheels caught in the dusty ground below her and left distinct trails behind.

"How do you know Maris?" Hei asked, watching her drag the suitcase below. Mao sat on the railing next to him.

"We were on the same team years ago when the syndicate was on the rise. The first team of contractors employed was myself, Maris, and two other contractors long dead. Don't ask me how she managed to get herself into this line of work, I don't know."

"What about you?" Hei asked, already knowing the answer.

"When you tell me, I'll tell you." Mao said. There were no traces of malice in his voice. After all the missions the two men had been on, they had learned to respect each other.

"Um...Hello?" Maris called tentatively. She had made it to the doorway, but was unsure if she should go inside or not.

Instead she stuck her head inside. An elderly man sat at a traditional Japanese dining table watching television. He sipped contentedly at a beer. On the screen a baseball match was underway.

Maris cleared her throat, trying to get his attention.

"You idiot! Are ya deaf!" The man and Maris both jumped. A very short woman appeared just to his right. Maris could hardly believe such a loud voice came from such a petite body. "I can't be the one getting the door all the time, honestly."

The man turned and looked at Maris. He moved to get up, but the woman fluttered past him, shoving his shoulder.

"Don't waste your time. I'll get it." She approached Maris, grumbling under her breath.

"What can I do for you, little lady?"

"Well, I-"

"Hold it!" The woman's voice was shrill, the kind that could wake the dead and kill them all over again. "You must be the new tenant. Am I right?"

Maris nodded bashfully. "Yes ma'am, I'm-"

"Was it Deena? Something weird like that...Darma, maybe?"

"It's-"

"Diana! That was it, Diana Ray."

"That's correct. You must be Misuzu." Maris said in a quiet voice.

"Yeah, yeah that's me alright. Come on, Come on, I'll show you the room." She brushed by Maris grabbing her wrist as she went. Maris allowed herself to be dragged along.

"I can't tell you how hard I've tried to get someone in this room." Misuzu rambled on. "Just because some the last owner died, it gives buyers the creeps. Silly ol' superstitious fools."

Misuzu stopped at the top of the stairs and glared at Maris. "You're not a superstitious fool are you?"

Maris faked a blush and shook her head side to side vigorously. "Oh no, ma'am."

The old woman smiled. "Good for you dear. You're in the right place."

"This is the apartment." She said, coming to a stop. "It's small you know. Rent's due on the first of the month not a day late, you got that? Solve you're neighbor problems on your own. I'm not you mother, I'm your landlord. No pets. And don't go feeding the strays. This one darn feline has been turning up every so often. They look cute, but they only want you for your scraps. You ain't the stray feeding type are ya?"

"Not me, ma'am. I'm allergic to cats." Maris said, scrunching her nose.

"Good girl." Misuzu said, offering her a miniscule smile. "Well, here's the key. Don't you lose it now, you hear?"

"Of course," Maris said, smiling back.

Misuzu left her then. Maris shoved the key into the lock and dragged her suitcase into the apartment. She closed the door behind her. Now was the time for surveillance.

Leaving the suitcase behind, she assessed the space. A small kitchen was located just right of the doorway. The wall directly opposite was occupied by one window and a sliding closet. There wasn't a mirror in the place, not even the bathroom. Fifteen minutes passed before she was confidant there were no cameras or other threatening devices around.

With a little jimmying she pulled the window open and sat inside the sill. It was time for another cigarette.

"Home Sweet Home."

Mao had appeared. He walked gracefully across the narrow concrete wall below her. Maris grinned.

"Well, I don't know if I would go that far." She moved so that he could jump into the room.

"Oh, wait." She said, a hitch in her voice

"What is it?" Mao answered, sullenly.

"I was told not to let in strays."

Maris smiled down at Mao. He couldn't smile, but his eyes sparkled, if only for a second.

Maris leaned against one grimy wall and sunk down to the floor. She rested her arms on her tucked knees. She craned her neck and stared at the dilapidated ceiling. Cobwebs decorated the corners.

"Why Mao? Why did you have to call me back?"

"I did no such thing. It was the syndicate who started the search for you."

Maris sighed, taking a long, slow drag from the smoke.

"If it's any consolation, it took them a year and a half to track you down." Mao said, trying to sound supportive.

Maris sneered. It was the perfect consolation. "Good."

Mao approached Maris slowly. She stretched one leg out and hhe crawled into her lap. His head rubbed against her neck. She reached her hand out and scratched behind his ear. She could feel the vibrations of his purring against her chest.

"I'll say this once," she started. "So you better listen carefully..."

Her hand traveled down his back to his tail. "I missed you, Mao."

"Yeah," Mao purred, cuddling in closer to her chest. "Me too Maris..."

"...Me too."

**

* * *

**

**A/N: Thanks for sticking around this long! ;) Now we enter the series a bit more. I'm changing up Episodes 17/18 so Hei and Maris can do a little bonding. But before that we learn a bit more about Maris and Mao! Review, Review, Review!  
**


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